The youtube link is
A LABOUR OF LOVE
What intimacy is its
cause,perhaps
an immaculate
conception of words;
too swift to
comprehend,see or
recognise.The moment
is there
and then is not.Gone
with the wind
the seed of idea
remains, to
germinate and
gestate,fanned by a
mental fragrance of
elation.Slowly
self-transcending a
word into a phrase,
a sentence to a
strophe;a rhyme
rides a waterfall of
cadence,
into a chasm of
verse. Terse or
long, the sonnet
becomes a little song,
struggles to
arrive.Thrust forth upon
my page;a
bastard-born of pain
BUCKINGHAMSHIRE BOY
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
REALM OF MEMORY
eagerly
resuming
with
nebulous
uninterrupted
inactivity
scarcely
beyond
belief
perspectives
retrieve
newly
discovered
interesting
idylls
of
vanished
rhetoric
now
subdued
tranquil
refuges
up
close
invade
the
quietude